Sleeptalk
by Snakefire1
Summary: Sharing a bed with your brother is always a pain, but hey, at least it's better than sleeping on the floor, right? Well, provided you've got earplugs. (This fanfic features OC's for the Provinces and Territories of Canada.)
1. Chapter 1

**Sleeptalk**

* * *

An Axis Powers: Hetalia Fanfiction by Snakefire.

Translations courtesy of Akikazehana.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Manitoba yawned as he clumsily undid his tie. It had been a long, tiring, boring day wearing this stupid monkey suit, and he couldn't wait for the days-long provincial conference to be over. As he undid his belt and slid out of his dress-pants, he turned and sat on the hotel bed, kicking the stupid things away.

"Why do we even need to bother with the damn suits an' ties..." he grumbled, "Like, aren't we all siblings anyway? God, I hate these damn conferences..."

Provincial conferences were a tedious but unavoidable part of being a province, much to Manitoba's chagrin. Canada was a vast country, a very vast country, and because the provinces that comprised it had a good deal of political clout, meetings had to be called on a fairly regular basis to sort out the latest intranational political mess they'd gotten themselves entangled in. This was still important work, even if it didn't have the same scope as the meetings their father Canada attended; they weren't allowed to attend the big, international meetings where all the countries of the world sat around a table and argued; after all, they were mere provinces, fractions of a country and not a whole one.

Which was still not enough incentive to keep them from causing complete chaos amongst themselves. Alberta and BC had spent the entirety of the meeting glaring daggers at each other about that stupid pipeline thing that Manitoba hadn't been paying attention to anyway, and there'd also been a bunch of propositions that had been put in the table that he still had to review tomorrow...

He groaned and flopped back on the double bed. He just wanted to go home already, back to his bison and his adopted micronation-kingdom-whatever-the-hell-Vikesland-was-calling-himself-today. The kid was a weird one, to be sure, but he could trust the little space cadet to look after his bison properly, at least.

Manitoba sat up and looked out the hotel window which looked out over the sea. The conference was taking place at PEI's place this time around, which normally would have been fine if he was here to run around and walk on the beach and dig a hole to see if the dirt really was red; but alas, he was not. He was here to sit in a stuffy boardroom, bored out of his skull for eight hours at a time while everyone else yelled at each other.

Manitoba reached up and pulled off his tie, tossing it into the corner of the room where he'd assuredly never find it in the morning, but right now he couldn't be assed to care anymore. He felt a pang of jealousy for the Maritimes, who were currently holed up at PEI's place and not this stupid hotel room. Then again, his brother's house was pretty small, and four was about the most he could handle at once. Manitoba snickered. He had it on pretty good authority that Nova Scotia had spent the night on a mat on the floor, which had been confirmed when he'd seen the bespectacled fellow (in full traditional Scottish dress) complaining about how much his back hurt.

Manitoba reached up and started to undo the buttons on his dress shirt, big sausage fingers fumbling with the stupid little buttons. Sure, his old leather jacket had buttons, too, but he'd upgraded those to the snap-together kind decades prior. He sighed and raked a hand through his dark brown hair, finally succeeding in getting one of the buttons undone. More fumbling yielded more undone buttons, which revealed a plain Winnipeg Jets t-shirt underneath. He slid out of his dress shirt and tossed it aside.

Manitoba reached down to pull off his t-shirt and stopped.

He looked back over the room. It was a simple hotel room, two double beds designed to accommodate two people; and what with the Maritimes being at PEI's house and Alberta and BC demanding their own room, that left the four remaining brothers to split the two double beds. He decided it'd probably be best to keep his t-shirt on, if only for modesty's sake.

On the other side of the room, Ontario was already slipping out of his suit and tie, something which looked far better and more natural on the well-build blonde than it did Manitoba.

"Hey, Onty?"

He looked up from undoing his red silk tie, hands moving to slide it off automatically. "Yes, Manitoba? What is it?" his voice betrayed a tiredness that could only come from being the designated verbal punching-bag for nine other people.

"Who, uh...Who do you want to...?" He let his voice trail off for a moment, not sure how to phrase the question without turning it into some kind of an innuendo. Thankfully, Ontario seemed to understand and furrowed his brow to think a bit.

"Hmmm...I think I'll double up with Québec tonight, and you and Sasky can share. That sound alright?"

It made sense. "Fair enough. If there's any problems, we can switch it up tomorrow, right?"

Ontario nodded. "Certainly. I'll let Québec know as soon as he's out of the shower."

Manitoba turned back to the window, furrowing his own brow. There was something about sharing a bed with Saskatchewan that he'd forgotten. What was it again? It had been such a long time since they'd had the share a bed like this. Normally he bunked up with Ontario or someone else for these conferences, but with the subtraction of the Maritimes from the equation and the Territories not allowed to partake (due to some kind of constitutional voodoo that Manitoba still wasn't entirely sure what was going on there), that left just the four brothers to share a single room. His brow uncreased as he decided to get under the covers. It was Saskatchewan, after all, the quietest of all of them.

Manitoba grabbed for the remote for their one TV. He switched it on, flipping channel disinterestedly until he found TSN, which was thankfully showing a hockey game. Anything else but hockey and there would have been a war over the remote. He settled back into the covers, glancing over at Ontario and smirking a little. The tall blonde had his laptop out, apparently to do some work- which wasn't going to happen as his eyes were riveted to the hockey game.

They watched in silence for some time, listening to the sounds of the game and of water running in the shower, before Manitoba rolled over and asked, "Where IS Sasky, anyway?"

Ontario shrugged. "I've no idea. I think he went out to go get some supper for us all."

Manitoba nodded. "Good, 'cause I'm starving. You think he'll be back before the second period starts?"

The click of the hotel door sliding open and the smell of pizza wafting inside answered his question. "Speak of the devil. What kind of pizza did you get, Sasky?" Manitoba called to his brother as he wandered in.

"Uh, I got us a Canadian with extra bacon...actually, I got us two." He replied, Saskatchewan's growly voice elevated above the running water of the longest shower in history as he closed the door behind him.

Ontario got up from his seat, setting the laptop down, and walked past Saskatchewan and his armful of pizzas to bang on the bathroom door repeatedly.

From inside the bathroom and over the sound of water still running came a muffled and rather indignant "QUOI?!" (_"WHAT?!")_

"HÉ-OH, QUÉBEC! SORS DE CETTE FOUTUE DOUCHE AVANT DE GASPILLER TOUTE L'EAU CHAUDE!"(_"OI, QUÉBEC! GET OUT OF THE DAMN SHOWER BEFORE YOU USE ALL THE HOT WATER!") _Ontario screamed back, standing there and pounding on the door until he heard the sound of the shower stop, to be replaced by the sound of colourful Québecois swearing.

Saskatchewan rolled his eyes and walked past the microfeud, putting the pizzas down on the table and grabbing a napkin and a slice. "Want one?" He asked Manitoba, tilting his head towards the box by way of an indicative gesture.

Manitoba nodded. "Yes please. C'mon, you're just in time for the second period."

* * *

_A/N:_

_-The Kingdom of Vikesland is a real micronation based in Brandon, Manitoba._

_-A Canadian pizza has lots of bacon, sausage, ham, pepperoni, and mushrooms as well as cheese and pizza sauce. _

_-TSN is a Canadian sports network. _

_In addition, two common abbreviations for specific provinces will be used throughout this fic:_

PEI_ stands for _Prince Edward Island.

BC_ stands for _British Columbia_.**  
**_

_These acronyms are used everywhere in Canada. _

_This is my first attempt at a multi-chapter fanfic. We'll see how it goes. _

_All rights belong to their respective owners. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Sleeptalk**

* * *

**Chapter two**

* * *

"Well, that fuckin' bites. God, I HATE the Bruins!" Manitoba growled angrily. To be fair, he wasn't a big fan of the Canucks either; but, they were Canadian, he was Canadian, and well. There was his pride to think of, after all.

He brushed away the crumbs from the pizza he'd devoured onto the floor, exhaustion and frustration seeping into his bones. With a growl of annoyance, he grabbed the remote to the television and switched it off with a decisive click.

There was a collective grumble as the four brothers unanimously agreed that Boston was a stupid town full of stupid people with a stupid hockey team and got ready to sleep. Ontario closed his laptop and put it in his bag, Quebec closed up his sketchpad and put away the pencil he'd been doodling the hockey players with, and Saskatchewan closed his book (Was he reading about fertilizer or quantum mechanics? Going by the title, Manitoba was inclined to believe either.). There was a collective rustling as everyone else swept away their pizza crumbs and adjusted the sheets so they'd be more comfortable, scooting as far away from their bedmate as was safely possible for the sake of things not getting incredibly awkward, and settled in.

"Goodnight you two. Bonne nuit, Quebec." Ontario mumbled, rolling onto his front and closing his eyes as the others all said their goodnights to each other over the sound of his soft snoring.

Quebec settled in, putting a little more distance than he already had between Ontario and himself.

"Bonne nuit." He called quietly, punctuating the following silence with a grunt as he pulled more of the covers in his direction. Ontario was hogging them and he was getting a bit cold. That done, the Quebecois removed his glasses and put them on the bedside table, settling in on his side and curling up his long, slender limbs into a tight ball to stay warm (and better keep hold of his ill-gotten covers.)

Manitoba nodded, rolling on his back and sinking under the covers, eyes closing, as his brother did the same beside him. Within a few minutes he was asleep but not yet dreaming, exhaustion from the day serving to keep him securely in the arms of Morpheus, just like he'd wanted. The hotel room was mercifully quiet, which was ideal for him- any loud sound would jostle him awake, light sleeper that he was.

"Alberta, hand me that melon..."

Manitoba's eyes snapped open. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but it felt like less than three minutes from when he'd closed his eyes to when he'd heard that voice, ringing out loud and clear through the room. He rolled over to look at Saskatchewan, initially confused. Was that his brother's voice he'd just heard?

"Sasky? You awake?" he whispered at the tall, blonde farmer. Manitoba squinted- as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he tried to see if his brother was awake or just having a weird dream or something.

His only reply was silence that hung in the air uncomfortably for several minutes. Manitoba sighed in relief, rolling over. Maybe it was over and he could finally get back to sl-

"South field needs harvesting. Where's biplane."

Manitoba groaned. This was the thing he'd forgotten about Saskatchewan; his brother talked in his sleep. He rolled over and socked his brother in the back with a balled-up fist, growling angrily. "Shut up."

His only response was a loud snore. That was the OTHER thing he'd forgotten about his brother- Saskatchewan was dead to the world the minute he closed his eyes. He swore to himself quietly, rolling facedown into his pillow. Tomorrow night he was bunking up with Québec, French cooties be damned. At least the Frenchie could be counted on to keep his yap shut when he was asleep, and not keep going on and on about insane drivel at…

Actually, that was a good question. What time WAS it?

He levered himself into an upright position, trying not to make too much noise, lest he wake Ontario and Québec. He leaned back a little, so as to get a better view of the clock, situated on the table between the two beds.

1:36 AM.

Manitoba groaned and buried his face in his pillow.

"S'gonna be a long night…" He mumbled into the mass of cloth. He was going to be a zombie tomorrow, he just knew it. And to make matters worse, he was pretty sure he'd be the only one. After all, everyone else was bunking up with someone who didn't talk in their fucking sleep.

"Bushwhack the grouse…stupid dog, not the melon. The grouse."

"I fucking hate you, Saskatchewan."

* * *

Québec's eyes snapped open at the sensation of the covers sliding off his body almost completely, yielding nothing but blurry darkness.

"...Espèce de pourri de calice de _tabarnak..._" he muttered silently, reaching over to the snoring lump that was his English-speaking brother to take the damn covers back where they rightly belonged, shivering slightly as he did so. He grabbed the hem of the blankets and tugged with all his strength- to no avail. The blankets weren't going anywhere anytime soon.

Ontario's eyes were closed, but he wasn't sleeping. He was fully awake and stubbornly clinging to the blankets, waiting for Québec's futile tugging to cease so he could sleep for real. He clung to them tightly, fists balling around the mass of cloth, refusing to give so much as an inch of fabric to Québec. No. He was cold from that Frenchie hogging all the covers for the better part of the night, and now it was his t-

Ontario hissed in surprise and pain as Québec jabbed two of his long, slender fingers into Ontario's back, in what he'd heard his youngest brother Nunavut refer to as a "kidney shock". In that moment of shock, he lost hold of the covers, allowing Québec to triumphantly grab the lot of them and roll himself into a cocoon, leaving nary a thread for Ontario to cover himself with.

Ontario glared down at Québec, eyes narrowing and lip curling up in disgust and anger as he softly hissed:

"You realize, of course, that _this means war."_

* * *

_A/N:_

_-The Canucks are a hockey team that plays for Vancouver. Bruins refers to the Boston Bruins, another NHL team._

_- "Bonne Nuit" = "Good night"_

_- Quebecois swearing is incredibly hard to properly translate into English. I sincerely apologize._

_Well look at me go, I already got a whole 'nother chapter out. Maritimes and plot next time, hopefully._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

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_Earlier that evening….._

"ALL IN!"

Three heads looked up from their hands in unison to stare at the speaker. Newfoundland was grinning hugely as he looked at his cards, feet propped on the table where his pile of chips should have been. Should have, but wasn't, because he didn't have any chips, or anything to bet, really; not even his shirt.

New Brunswick looked at her cards again and raised a single questioning eyebrow.

"….Newfoundland, you have nothing to-"

"I fold." PEI interrupted, dropping his cards on the table to safeguard his dwindling pile of chips. There was a look on the fisherman's face that was making the petite man very nervous. That, and he still had junk, even after swapping out three of his cards for new ones. The potato farmer sat back in his seat, groaning a little and looking an awful lot like a small child having a pout (owing more to his small stature than any actual childishness.)

New Brunswick rolled her eyes at PEI's response, looking over her own cards (a pair of twos and nothing else) and back up at him. She sighed and tossed her hand on the table as well, not wanting to throw any more of her meager pile of winnings away. That done, her mind returned to Newfoundland's declaration, hands reaching up to re-tie the bandanna that kept her mass of curly red hair in place on their own as she thought about her reply.

"….Newfoundland, I don't know why you didn't just drop out last round. You bet everything you had on you- even your shirt- and Nova Scotia won, remember? Seriously, you've lost everything."

New Brunswick picked up her cards again. That was her being delicate.

At the end of the table, opposite the thickly accented fisherman, Nova Scotia nodded behind the wall of his winnings, trying to hide his smirk with his cards. He'd been expecting this, and had played accordingly- though not for the reasons that most would think. He didn't want the money or the chips (and especially not the smelly shirt that was currently sitting on top of the unopened beer bottles PEI had gambled away); no, he was after a far different prize, the one he knew Newfoundland was going to gamble in this next round.

Nova Scotia failed at holding in his smile. This was it. He had the cards, he had the means, and he was going to win what he wanted most.

"I's still got one ting left. Me spot on da couch. I'll bet dat."

Nova Scotia bit his lip to avoid cheering and punching the air as he pushed all his winnings into the center of the table. His aching back would be gone by morning, and he could finally get a good night's sleep. All he needed to do was win this round; and he had a full house of three aces and two kings. There was no way in hell he'd lose this one. Not a chance.

Newfoundland smirked broadly and took another swig of his beer. "You sure you wanna do dat, Scottie?" he asked, "dis is your chance to back out if you want."

Nova Scotia shook his head. "Not gonna happen. Now let's see those cards."

Newfoundland shrugged and took another swig. "You first."

The shipwright shrugged and spread his cards on the table, showing off the power of the aces and the kings. He sat back in his chair and grinned. "Read 'em and weep."

Newfoundland stared at them for a moment, eyes wide. "Dat…Dose are some nice cards you got dere, b'y."

Nova Scotia nodded and reached for his winnings. "You can have your shirt back, by the way. I don't want-"

Newfoundland smacked his hand away from the mountain of chips and change, tossing his own cards onto the table. "Shame dat mine are better, eh?"

Nova Scotia's jaw dropped.

"…You…"

Newfoundland slipped his shirt back on, covering up his bare chest within the familiar confines of the green fabric, feeling quite smug. As he raked up his winnings, Nova Scotia stared at the five cards in front of him blankly, as if he could scarcely believe they were real. All five were the same suite, for one thing, and for another, the hand in front of him was a _royal flush_, the best hand you could possibly get in poker.

Nova Scotia stood there like a stupid kilted statue as he tried to process what had just happened. New Brunswick and PEI were trying to stifle giggles as he did so, because the look on his face was absolutely priceless. New Brunswick pulled out her phone and took a picture, capturing the redhead's angry befuddlement for all eternity.

His left eyelid twitched.

"One more round."

The three others turned to look at him.

New Brunswick opened her mouth to repeat what she'd said to Newfoundland a few minutes prior, until she saw her brother fumbling with the hem of his kilt.

"Scottie, you can bet your sweater or your socks or your shirt or your glasses, but last time I checked we all agreed that _you are not allowed to bet your kilt."_ She said fiercely, eyes narrowed and voice stern.

PEI shuddered. "Yeah. Not happening. Not after the last time. Not after what I saw, and incidentally that mental image is going to follow me to my grave."

Nova Scotia shook his head as he straightened up, with a palm-sized silver broach in the shape of a sword nestled there.

"Not the kilt. Just the kilt pin." He said, confidence masking his desperation to not sleep on that blasted mat on the floor. His back ached, a dull throbbing pain that only flared up worse the longer he stood there, eyes locked with Newfoundland.

He let the pin hit the table and pushed it to the middle with two fingers. He sank back down in his chair, shuffling the deck of cards.

Newfoundland raised his eyebrow, gesturing for his cards. "Eh, what da hell. I'll bite. Ya must be mighty desperate to bet dat pin a' yours, me son."He said with a chuckle, gesturing for his adopted brother to begin dealing.

Nova Scotia dealt out five to himself and five to Newfoundland, ignoring the other two, which prompted PEI to pipe up in disbelief. "Hey! Why can't we play this round too?"

New Brunswick rolled her eyes and motioned for PEI to get off the chair he was standing on. This was obviously one of Nova Scotia's harebrained schemes to get something from someone, and the less collateral damage, the better.

PEI grudgingly sat down as Newfoundland examined the cards he'd been dealt, pulling two of them out and putting them facedown on the table before sliding them towards Nova Scotia.

The duly appointed dealer dealt him two fresh cards off the top of the deck, taking the discarded ones and putting them aside. Nova Scotia put the deck down and took a look at his own cards, pulling out three and putting them aside, grabbing three new ones off the top.

"Hell yes." He murmured softly, almost imperceptibly; he couldn't afford to drop the pokerface this time.

Newfoundland reached into his pile, eyes still on his cards, and pushed out two beer bottles.

"That's not enough."

The fisherman looked up from his cards and raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Whaddaya mean dat's not enough?"

Nova Scotia scowled. "That pin is solid sterling silver, on top of being a gift from uncle Scotland. You're gonna need to do better than those two beers if you want to match it."

Newfoundland looked over his pile of chips, mentally adding it all up, and let out a sigh. "Dere's not enough here to match dat pin even I trew in da whole ting."

Newfoundland grabbed his two beers, turning that hand up to instead massage his temples.

"What do you want, Scottie?" He groaned, consciously dropping the accent from his voice for a moment to better express his exasperation to this lot.

Nova Scotia smirked. "Your spot on the couch."

Silence reigned as Newfoundland pondered his options. He could fold without putting anything in, which would result in him getting a good night's sleep for certain, if Nova Scotia's analysis of the comfort of the mat on the floor was to be believed; on the other hand, the pin really was beautiful, and even though he'd have to give it back in two days, as per the house rules they played under, the bragging rights alone would make it worthwhile.

After pondering this over another sip of beer, he nodded. "Fair enough. Your pin and me spot on da couch."

As far as Newfoundland was concerned, he had nothing to lose. He usually had phenomenal luck at poker, and he wasn't betting anything that actually belonged to him, and the consequences for losing this gamble were laughable. After all, how bad could sleeping on that mat be?

Nova Scotia grinned fiendishly. "Let's see those cards of yours, then."

* * *

_A/N: _

_-The variant of poker they're playing is a modified version of Five-Card Draw. _

_-I apologize for any inaccuracies in properly rendering Newfoundland's accent. I'm not very good with accents in general, so if there's anything off or wrong about it please let me know. I'll fix whatever gaffe I've made promptly. _

_Next time: The provincial conference. I hope. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

_The next morning…_

The sound of dress shoes clacking against polished marble filled the legislature hallway as the personification of Prince Edward Island made his way to a large boardroom. His shoulder barely went up past the doorhandles to the offices that lined the halls. He wasn't a very tall man, at all; three inches less than five feet, a dwarf among the giants that were his adopted sisters and brothers.

He walked up to the door of the conference room, turning the handle and pushing it open with ease. He nodded. Hinges on the door had been oiled.

PEI took out the clipboard and made a checkmark on that item, putting the pen back in its special slot as he moved to make sure all the other items on it were accounted for.

He walked along the length of the massive table, eyeing the black leather rolling chairs under the light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the room, discreetly tucked at the back of the legislature on the second floor. He took a quick count- ten chairs, including his own with was situated at the head of the table. Check.

The diminutive province scanned the room with his off-green eyes for his wooden stool- an absolutely essential item for a man of his stature to have for meetings like this. It was tucked under the table, near his own seat at the head of it. Check.

He walked up to the chair, pulling it back and hopping in it and looking over the table. It had indeed been laid out as per his instructions, pads of paper, pens, jugs of water (and a little 'no smoking' sign placed rather near Québec). He smiled and nodded to see that the essential detail of the flag-patterned placards that were, admittedly, only useful for ensuring everyone took their assigned seat; as per the official provisions for these meetings.

PEI nodded and made another checkmark, getting out of his chair and shaking his head. So much pomp and ceremony, and absolutely no point to any of it. But the rules were the rules, and he wasn't going to be the province to openly defy the constitution of Canada.

He pushed his chair back in its place and checked his watch. Half an hour until his siblings would start to trickle in to start the conference, which still wasn't much time. PEI walked to the door of the room quickly- there were still some last-minute checks to make for the sake of a queen an ocean away (And also to make sure the catering staff were ready to go; ten powerful people without so much as a sandwich to share was just ASKING for trouble.)

PEI heard the sound of approaching footsteps and turned down the hallway, sighing with relief when he saw who it was.

"Oh, there you are! I was getting worried you'd gotten sick or something. Is the mace ready to go?"

* * *

_Thirty minutes later…_

"Tell me again why _**you're**_ driving _**my**_ rental?"

BC rolled her eyes and spun the wheel around, trying to navigate the massive rental pickup truck out of the Tim Horton's parking lot- no small task in a lot this size full of this many cars. She topped to let someone pull out of a stall, reaching down and taking a long drink of her coffee, trying very hard not to spill it on her only suit.

BC smacked her lips together thoughtfully as she put the coffee cup back in its holder. "**_I'm_** driving _**your**_ truck because **_I_ **don't feel like sitting there while _**you**_ get pulled over by the RCMP for driving a hundred klicks over the speed limit." She finally replied, causing Alberta to slump back in her seat and look out the window, muttering to herself and surely trying to brew up a decent comeback.

Ten minutes later, BC had successfully negotiated the massive truck (which she'd decided to nickname "The Boat") out of the parking lot and onto the main road, where they'd promptly gotten stuck behind the world's slowest tractor. She shrugged it off and looked out the window at the pretty scenery as they inched along towards the meeting.

"Say what you will about PEI, but his place is damn pretty." She said, turning to look at Alberta for a moment.

The prairie province's eyes were glued to the tractor in front of them, glaring daggers at it as if she was hoping to skewer it with her gaze. She nodded once, mechanically, by way of a reply, her cowboy-booted foot tapping at the floor impatiently.

BC sighed and took another drink of coffee. "…You know, that was an attempt to get a conversation of some sort going…" She muttered, looking away.

Alberta turned to look at BC and groaned. "What do you want, BC?"

Her raven-haired sister shook her head, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "Nothing, really. I just…Want to talk. You know. As sisters. We haven't 'just talked' for like six months, and I'm starting to worry that this…Pipeline thing is driving a wedge between us."

BC ground her teeth a little at that. The last thing either of them needed was reminding about the issue that had pitted two good friends and close siblings against each other for ages and ages. Alberta's deepening scowl only served to highlight that she didn't want to think about, much less talk about 'the pipeline thing.'

Alberta sighed grumpily and reached up to take off her cowboy hat. She sat up straight in her chair, squirming back and forth impatiently to achieve the result, and placed the hat on her now-bent knee. Two blue eyes turned towards BC, arms folded. "What do you wanna talk about, then?"

There was a long, awkward silence, punctuated only by the tapping of Allie's foot, the snarling of the car's engine, and the drumming fingers against the steering wheel.

But just as BC was seriously considering banging her head against the horn to try to fill the silence somehow, Alberta blurted out, "Y'know, I've got a half a mind to just get out and flip that fucking tractor into the ditch. We're going to be seriously late at this rate!" She scowled angrily, sinking back into her slouched posture.

BC snorted. "Left-side ditch or right-side ditch?" She asked, voice thick with sarcasm.

"Left-side, obviously."

"So, straight off that cliff and right into the ocean?"

"Obviously. Besides, there's oncoming traffic the other way, and we don't need more people getting trapped behind that damn tractor."

BC chuckled. "That's the Allie I know and love. Selfless to the last."

Alberta smirked, putting her hat back on. "I try, sis. I try."

A quarter of an hour and much cursing later, the tractor finally turned a corner eliciting a cheer from both of the women in the car, BC promptly putting her foot on the accelerator (but still within the speed limit) to make up for lost time.

As they drove, Alberta leaned back in her seat and just admired the scenery rolling past her window. Farms, trees, red dirt; PEI did have a beautiful place. BC, too, was equally awed, her eyes occasionally darting off the road when it went straight for a little bit to glance at something of interest before returning to the task at hand.

"Heh, look at those kids over there." BC said, breaking the peaceful silence that had settled on the car's occupants. She gestured towards them with her head to keep both hands on the wheel, Alberta turning to look.

Several children with shovels were digging a little hole in a field, near the edge. It didn't have the look of actual work; they were far too relaxed, flinging dirt at one another and across the field, the youngest of them sitting on a little box. They passed them by, and BC chuckled. "Just like when you and Sasky were little, eh?"

Alberta raised an eyebrow."What do you mean by that?"

"You know, digging holes in the yard and filling them back in again later…I still don't know exactly what you were _doing_ when you did that, but…"

Alberta smiled. "Ah, that. Yeah, we were playing pirates…He'd be the dreaded Captain Harvester and I'd be his trusty first mate."

BC was looking at the road, a grin creeping onto her face. "I remember that. You kept asking me if I'd be, and I quote, a "navy guy" to try to catch you pesky little pirates."

The blonde blushed and looked out the window, embarrassed at the reminder of that.

BC sniggered. "If I recall, Scottie was always a good sport about it…and always happy to be your 'navy guy.'"

Alberta frowned. "Yeah. And also he'd lecture us about knots and ropes and stuff until we fell asleep if he caught us."

She leaned back in her seat, staring at the car's ceiling. "By the way, how far is it to the legislature? Feels like we've been driving for hours."

"We're there now, actually."

Alberta sat up as BC drove around, away from the main parking lot, towards the private one for staff and politicians. They weren't either of those, but PEI had given everyone a little ticket to put on the dashboard when they'd arrived at the airport for that lot, and well. It would have been a shame to waste, after all.

BC chose a parking spot and manoeuvred the car into it with ease, putting it in park and shutting it off instead of letting it idle. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time quickly, slipping it back in and turning to her sister.

"…We gotta go. We're like fifteen minutes late."

Alberta nodded and got out of the car, pulling open the back seat and taking out a large cardboard box with a spigot, slamming the door closed behind her. She held up the large, heavy box with one hand and grinned.

"Hey, at least we got Timmies."

* * *

_A/N:_

_- 'RCMP' stands for Royal Canadian Mounted Police. They are usually referred to as 'Mounties'._

_-'Klicks' is a slang term for kilometers; it can be used to refer to both distance and kilometers per hour._

_-'Timmies' is a Canadian colloquialism for Tim Hortons, a chain of coffee shops. Along with more standard cups of coffee you can also get a great big box full of the stuff to dole out to a large number of people. It's more convenient than getting cups._

_-The pipeline that is being referred to in this story is meant to carry crude oil and will be elaborated on later._

_So I lied about the provincial conference. My apologies. I had some difficulty writing it and decided to write this instead. Next chapter, though. I promise._

_Comments, follows, and favorites are greatly appreciated._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

* * *

"We're _really_ late." BC muttered as they hurried towards the double doors, trying not to spill her coffee.

Alberta rolled her eyes, pushing the first door open and holding it for BC. "Yeah, tell me somethin' I _don't_ already know."

"Thanks. And hey, it's true. We're gonna need to be quiet and hope Onty isn't getting all worked up over how late we are." BC replied as she walked through the door to the second one, pushing it open and holding it for Alberta.

"Thanks. Yeah, well, Onty's usually throwin' a fit of one kind or another anyway, so fuck him. I don't care." She snapped, a scowl forming at the mere mention of Ontario. BC trailed behind as the tall blonde breezed through the door into the legislature proper. They walked down the hall at a brisk pace, both looking for the stairs that would lead them up to the second floor. Hopefully they hadn't decided to start already.

The stairs in question were mercifully close, and they climbed; cowboy boots and flats clacking on the polished marble and echoing quite loudly. They hustled in lockstep towards a set of double doors off to the side of the main meeting chamber, reaching them and pushing them open in unison. Light streamed through this hallway from a window at the far end, illuminating a row of offices- at the end of which sat the boardroom.

Both of them were quite tall, and their strides quite long; it was a matter of seconds for them to traverse the hallway, BC pausing near the doors and Alberta forging on ahead, a determined expression on her face.

"Hey, you think we should knock-" BC began, words dying in her throat as Alberta simply shoved the door open and marched inside.

BC facepalmed. "Or, y'know, we could just barge on in without knocking. Whatever works." She muttered in response, following her sister.

The two of them stopped in the doorway and stared.

"...At least we're not late." BC said, eyeing the silent, empty boardroom. She checked her phone- they were indeed fifteen minutes late, but apparently so was everyone else.

Alberta slammed the box of coffee on the table near her chair, pulling it out from under the table and taking a seat. BC walked around to the other side, pulling her own chair out and taking her designated seat.

There was a long, awkward silence as they sat there. Alberta played with her cardstock placard, done up in dark blue with gold accents and her flag displayed prominently in the middle. She looked up at BC, who was doodling (a bear and an orca fighting with chainsaws).

"Are we early? Like, _really_ early?" She asked, tilting her head. "I mean, nobody's here yet, and we're just-"

She was cut off by a firm but polite knock at the door.

"Come in." They said in unison, followed by an equally unanimous "Jinx."

The door opened slowly, and Saskatchewan leaned in, nodding once and gesturing for some unseen others to follow him. The green-eyed farmer walked inside, looking uncomfortable in his suit and dark green tie, and took his seat opposite Alberta. He was followed by a relieved-looking PEI and New Brunswick, the latter of whom moved to place yet another box of coffee from Tim Horton's next to Alberta's.

"Sorry. We went to Tim's, and well. There was a bit of a line." Alberta nodded in agreement as New Brunswick walked up to the head of the table, taking her seat near PEI.

"Thank god. Until these two showed up I was afraid everyone had gone out for drinks or something and didn't invite me." PEI said, sitting down in the massive chair. "Where's Ontario, anyway? He's usually earlier than everyone else to these things."

"I did wake them up and made sure they actually _got_ up. Nobody wanted to roll out of bed this morning for some reason." Saskatchewan said with a shrug, sitting back in his chair. He picked up his green-and-yellow placard and examined it; eye trailing over the bright red flower that was placed prominently in the middle. He placed it back down and interlaced his fingers, arms on the table.

PEI raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's three of us somewhat accounted for. That just leaves 'Scotia...and Newfoundland. I don't recall seeing either of them on my way out of the door...then again, I was out of the house hours before-"

The door swung open suddenly, cutting PEI off. Nova Scotia strode through, two massive boxes of coffee in his hands. "Sorry I'm late!" He called cheerfully, "there was a line a mile long at Timmies...you know how it goes, eh?"

He skipped up to the table, putting the two boxes next to Alberta's swiftly growing collection (which seemed to be causing the table to sag a bit, much to her concern.) He trotted over to his seat and took it, beaming at the pretty white-and-blue patterned placard with his saltire on it.

PEI coughed awkwardly.

"...Scottie."

"Yeah? What?"

"...Where's Newfoundland? You said you'd give him a ride. So where the hell is he?"

"I DID give him a ride, so he's in the building. Last I saw, he and Manny were-"

The door swung open slowly and haltingly, cutting Nova Scotia off, and everyone stared.

"H'lo." Ontario mumbled, massive black circles hanging heavy under his bloodshot eyes. He held his briefcase limply in one hand and an empty mug in the other as he walked over to his seat near the head of the table, his normal brisk walk replaced by a sedated meander.

All eyes were on him as he walked across the room, trailing the normally fastidious man as he pulled his seat out and collapsed into it, rolling forward and letting his head lay on the table.

"...Jesus, Onty. The hell happened to you?" Alberta said, looking somewhat concerned about him for once in her life.

Ontario was, simply put, a mess. His hair was dishevelled, his suit was crumpled- he hadn't even bothered to do up his red silk tie.

"That fuckin' frog kept hoggin' all the covers..." He mumbled angrily, looking up to glare at Québec as he walked in the room, looking equally exhausted.

Québec's tall, thin frame was hunched over ever so slightly, his spiderlike arms seemingly dangling unsupported. The tallest of them all, his usual stature was severely reduced, leaving him to slog dead-eyed and bleary to the head of the table as well, rolling out the chair opposite Ontario and falling into it.

He looked up "C'est pas moi qui c'est accaparé ces foutues couvertures, c'est _TOI_ qui les a tous piquées..." _("I didn't hog the covers, **you** were hogging the damn covers...")_he muttered angrily, reaching a hand up to massage his temples. Too much English after too little sleep, and it was giving him a headache.

New Brunswick sighed and got up just as Québec's mumbling turned to cursing, pushing Québec's chair in helpfully. "Je vais traduire pour toi, d'accord? Je sais a quel point tu es fatigué." _("I'll translate for you, how's that? I know how tired you are.")_ She offered to him with a gentle smile.

Québec laid his head on his arms, hunching over the table. "Oui, s'il-te-plaît et merci beaucoup." _("Yes. Please. Thank you.")_ He mumbled into the crook of his arm in response, voice severely muffled. English wasn't too hard for Quebec to string together normally, but normally he wasn't severely sleep-deprived and without coffee.

New Brunswick nodded and took her seat again, pulling it in and drumming her fingers on the table in the silence that followed.

PEI sighed. "Right. That's eight. So...What were Manny and Newfoundland doing, Scottie?"

Nova Scotia started to play with his pen. "Last I saw, they were over by one of the vending machines in the hallway."

The door swung open yet again, two miserable men slouching inside and letting it swing closed behind them. Newfoundland yawned mightily, flopping in his seat right at the end of the table, between Alberta and Saskatchewan. He took a long drink from a tall, slim can, putting it on the table with a resounding 'clank' as he went to root through his briefcase.

BC arched an eyebrow. "...Redbull? Really? That stuff's awful for-"

"Shut up," Newfoundland growled, "I's five hundred years old, I'll drink what I want."

Manitoba flopped in his seat next to BC, letting his own can clank on the table as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He looked up at the four boxes of coffee at the end of the table and mumbled something about paper cups, taking another long drink from his can immediately afterwards.

PEI rolled his chair back a bit and pulled out his stepstool, hopping onto it to give him some more height. He rubbed his hands together and swept his eyes over the whole table, making the final headcount. All ten, present and accounted for.

"Well, that takes care of that. Let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

_A/N:_

_-French translations are courtesy of my fabulous friend Akikazehana. Thanks, sis!_

_So I guess I lied. Again. Next time, guys, I promise. For real this time._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

* * *

"So now that everyone is present and presumably voting, would all of you please rise and remove your hats for the laying of the mace." PEI called out to the gathered provinces. His words were initially his own, transitioning abruptly to the scripted ceremonial language that would be used for the next several minutes. PEI nodded in approval as the whole table climbed to their feet, Alberta begrudgingly doffing her white cowboy hat and laying it on the table. She was usually the only one to wear her hat into these meetings anyway.

PEI nodded and hopped off his stool, walking around the delegation and out the doors. There were several minutes of silence in which sips of coffee and energy drinks were illicitly guzzled as the remaining nine waited patiently.

There was the sound of marching feet in the hallway and everyone straightened up as the doors swung open. Flanked on either side by uniformed aides, PEI walked into the room again; marching in lockstep with the much taller Sergeant-at-Arms behind him. PEI's plain suit was overshadowed by the ceremonial uniform worn by the far taller man behind him, clutching a long black baton in one hand, and in the other, an elaborate sceptre encrusted with jewels and exquisite metalwork.

PEI and the mace-bearer stepped off to opposite sides of the room for a moment, both still near the door. Two young men in suits walked in carrying an ornate-looking stand for the mace to rest on. They walked around the side of the table, nodding at Manitoba and BC who both took a step back and moved their chairs out of the way. The stand-bearers stepped in to fill the space, placing the wood-and-silver rest in the center of the table and leaving without another word.

PEI nodded and turned, waiting for the mace-bearer to march up behind him, and lead the man to the middle of the table where BC and Manitoba were still standing off to either side. PEI moved out of the way respectfully as the much larger Sergeant walked forwards and placed the mace on the stand, delicately and with much care.

The sergeant saluted sharply and marched out, taking the aides with him. BC and Manitoba pushed their chairs back in place, but nobody took their seats quite yet.

The diminutive Islander marched up to the head of the room and pulled his stool out, hopping on it. He pulled out a sheet from his papers and laid it on the table, straightening up and crossing his hands behind his back.

"Ahem..._Almighty God, we give thanks for the great blessings which have been bestowed on Canada and its citizens, including the gifts of freedom, opportunity and peace that we enjoy. We pray for our Sovereign, Queen Elizabeth, and the Governor General. Guide us in our deliberations as Provinces of Canada, and strengthen us in our awareness of our duties and responsibilities as such. Grant us wisdom, knowledge, and understanding to preserve the blessings of this country for the benefit of all and to make good laws and wise decisions. _Amen."

"Amen." came the murmured reply.

PEI looked at his watch as the room fell silent. After the prayer, there was a moment of silence for meditation and self-reflection, or perhaps another more personal prayer if one felt so inclined. It was almost deafening, the silence; PEI was relieved when the minute was finally up and he could call out, "You may now be seated."

The sound of provinces settling heavily into their chairs all at once filled that void quite nicely, PEI thought, and he himself was about to take his seat when a thought occurred to him.

Alberta had already put her hat back on, snatching up the dirty white thing and jamming it on her head the minute she'd been allowed to. Just as she'd readjusted it to the angle she usually preferred, PEI asked, "What day is it?"

There was a moment of fumbling for phones and timepieces, a moment that was cut off by Saskatchewan declaring, "It's the nineteenth. Wednesday."

PEI nodded. "Right. False alarm. Back on your feet, and hat off, Allie. National anthem time."

Alberta groaned and took her hat back off again, laying it on the table and growling sourly as she and the rest climbed to their feet in unison.

PEI nodded at New Brunswick. "Would you do the honours? I'd ask Québec, but..."

All eyes turned to look at the tallest province who was currently asleep on his feet and pretending like he wasn't. New Brunswick nodded in approval and moved to get on PEI's stool, her brother hopping off for her.

She cleared her throat, before letting the words flow off her tongue.

_"Oh Canada..."_

The first line was sung by her and only her, the single, surprisingly deep voice ringing out through the room. New Brunswick took another breath, and the next line wasn't left by itself.

_"Our home and native land..."_

The chorus of voices sang out as one- or more accurately, nine. Nine people singing the same thing at the same time, and one mumbling along in French. Not all of them were good singers- in fact, only one or two truly were- but the harmony was all that mattered, hiding the cracked voices and off-key notes to produce the lovely melody that made the heart swell with pride.

And then New Brunswick switched languages.

_"Car ton bras sait porter l'épée,"_

This line was also accompanied- by two mumbled voices in French and a whole lot of English spluttering as the sudden language shift left well over half the country not sure what the words were anymore. The spluttering lasted a line or two before they fell silent, a unanimous agreement among them to just let the French-speakers have it.

_"God keep our land glorious and free!"_

New Brunswick switched back to English just as abruptly, the French mumbling of Québec and Ontario almost obscuring the words. There was a collective sigh of relief from those who had fallen silent, and they added their voices with renewed passion as the song began to wind to a close.

As the final _"...We stand on guard for thee!"_ dispersed through the air, silence fell heavily to fill the vacuum. Everyone turned to look at PEI, awaiting the speaker's permission to sit down again- well, everyone except Alberta, who was too busy adjusting her hat.

PEI nodded and the gathering of provinces all sat down at once.

The potato farmer checked the schedule. He, as the speaker, was the one who would manage the debates and all other aspects of the proceedings to come, a job he hadn't done in about two decades, hence the need for the cheat sheet. According to the schedule, it was now time for opening remarks.

"Right," he called, "We'll now hear your opening statements. You have one minute each. Please keep your statements short and relevant. Who would like to go first?"

Manitoba took another sip of Redbull and raised his hand.

"The speaker recognizes the Province of Manitoba. Your minute begins now."

Manitoba stood up, looked around the table, and put on his most serious face.

"As the representative of the province of Manitoba, I would like to propose that we delay this meeting for three hours while I and several others _have a goddamn nap_."

* * *

_A/N:_

_-The laying of the mace depicted in this chapter is a modified version of the actual ceremonial proceedings undergone in the Canadian house of parliament and provincial legislatures. The details that were changed are merely ones of timing and positioning; the actual maces used in parliament and the provincial legislatures have dedicated stands attached to a desk that are easily visible throughout the meeting chamber. The boardroom they were using had no such stand, and as such one had to be placed._

_-Parliament cannot sit until the mace is laid._

_-The prayer is courtesy of the government of Canada, and as such is not mine. It is the actual prayer that is recited before parliament sits to the best of my knowledge; however, the wording was altered slightly so as to apply to the provinces as opposed to the MP's. _

_Next time: Infighting! Tension! And probably also lunch!_

_Follows, Favorites, and Reviews are greatly appreciated._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

_Several hours later..._

PEI groaned loudly, his forehead mashed into the table and one balled fist thumping the back of his head over and over, a motion of frustration not unlike a metronome. Things were not going well. Ontario had spent about three hours lecturing everyone about...Something. PEI hadn't been paying attention. It was well past noon and the catering staff had yet to arrive. And lastly, PEI had a throbbing headache. Then again, he couldn't exactly complain about it; this was one brought on by the screaming match that was currently raging not five feet from him, a screaming match he'd started.

PEI really, really hated that stupid fucking pipeline.

_ "-YEAH?! YEAH?! YOU WANNA GO, YOU FUCKIN' GRANOLA-MUNCHIN' BLEEDING-HEART LEFTY?!" _

_"DAMN STRAIGHT I WANNA GO YOU INBRED REDNECK! ALL YOU CARE ABOUT IS YOUR DIRTY OIL AND YOUR GODDAMN MONEY!"_

**_"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING INBRED?! I'LL GIVE YOU INBRED, YOU BITCH!" _**

**_"I _****HATE _GRANOLA!"_**

BC and Alberta leapt out of their respective seats and made an attempt to lunge at each other, presumably to have their little catfight on the table. Ontario and Saskatchewan immediately rose to stop it, the latter having been hovering behind his sister's chair since the discussion started for the express purpose of making sure things didn't turn violent. Ontario simply wrapped his arms around BC like he was giving her a hug from behind, digging the heels of his dress shoes in and relying on his strength to keep BC in place- no small task, if he was being honest. Saskatchewan, on the other hand, was in dire need of some assistance- Alberta was a fair bit stronger than him and the only reason she wasn't already out of his grasp and brawling with her sister was the simple fact that she had no desire to hurt her twin brother.

And the others REALLY weren't helping.

**_"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" _**

"I hate you all so, so much..." he muttered.

Saskatchewan's grip on Alberta's shoulders finally failed, roughly at the same point that BC rammed an elbow into Ontario's ribcage. Alberta ripped her hat off and slammed it into her twin's chest as she leaped up on the table to meet her equally-enraged sister.

The doors flew open suddenly, causing everyone who wasn't in the middle of a flying tackle to freeze in their seat. Alberta and BC had barely landed a single blow apiece, the sudden interruption causing them both to topple sideways onto the table in a tangle of limbs and hair.

But the fighting had ceased, at least for the moment. Silence reigned in the room, governed by the shocked eyes of the man in the trim waiter's uniform who'd been sent up as a messenger.

PEI lifted his head.

"About time you showed up."

* * *

Five minutes later...

The young man lead the assembled provinces down the steps of the legislature to the outside of the building, where the sun was shining, the grass was green, and the smell of food filled the air. After so many hours arguing with each other, it was the picture of paradise, and they basked in the warmth of a glorious Canadian summer.

The picnic tables had been laid out in a long row in the shade, a long checkered cloth draped over the old timbers of the benches. Nearby were large metal pots on wheels, presided over by an attendant uniformed much like their guide. This was far from the most lavish lunch they'd ever had, but with the sun beaming down from above and the smell of the sea on the air, it was heavenly nonetheless.

Saskatchewan happily ditched his dress shirt, holding it in the crook of his arm and letting his tie flap about in the wind. He walked over to his twin, Alberta giving him a large smile as they went to go select a spot to drop their jackets.

The rest of the provinces were fragmenting off into their respective "groups"- the Maritimes and Newfoundland, the prairies and BC, and Ontario and Québec- it depended on who wanted to go where, really. The informal ordering had the upside of making the task of picking seats trivially easy.

As soon as everyone had claimed a spot near their informal "group", food became the top priority. A queue was formed, in no particular order, as the various provinces grabbed their plates and ambled by their options. The Maritimes doled themselves generous helpings of fish and PEI found a way to fit half the potato pot onto his plate; Québec and Ontario made a beeline for the pancakes and very patently ignored any and all strange looks about breakfast food for lunch.

The prairies pounced on the pot of perogies, and the three of them would surely decimate them by the end of lunch. That left BC poking at the leftovers, finally settling on something that looked vaguely like Chinese food before ambling back to the seat she'd taken between Manitoba and Nova Scotia.

The conversations were relaxed and chipper, amicable and friendly; the meeting and the politics happily forgotten as food and good company became the main priorities.

Some arguments had yet to be smoothed over- Alberta and BC still weren't making so much as eye contact, having put Manitoba and Saskatchewan between them-but that aside, it was going well for all involved.

Aside from PEI, that is.

Unlike the others, resigned to their easy languor and amicable talk, PEI was fidgeting nervously in his seat, shooting scared little glances at Alberta and Saskatchewan every so often. He wriggled out of his tie and stuffed it into the briefcase he'd discreetly brought along- real silk, a gift for his hundredth birthday from New Brunswick- and, when he was sure nobody was looking, ducked under the table and undid his shoelaces with a single tug. He took them off while he was at it, stuffing them in his briefcase and resurfacing.

PEI gulped.

Alberta and Saskatchewan (both several centuries his junior, it must be said) sported wicked grins, differing in their subtly and size. PEI's eyes darted to the plates in front of them- Alberta had polished off her perogies long since and next to the crumbs lay the remnants of the steak she's just devoured as well. Saskatchewan's plate was similarly empty with his napkin on it, which for the diminutive man was a signal of impending doom.

PEI grinned weakly. He was already done his potatoes and lobster and all the other things he'd sampled, and that meant his time was up.

Alberta and Saskatchewan got to their feat in unison, those nasty grins never once leaving their faces as the rest of the family took notice of what was going on.

PEI looked pleadingly around the table for someone, anyone, to come save him as the twins walked around the table to get to him. Ontario, Québec, Nova Scotia- they all smirked back at him and shook their heads as he looked at them for help that he knew full well wasn't going to come.

A pair of strong hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back out of his seat, knocking the small man to the grass. Saskatchewan caught his arms before his head could hit the ground and Alberta grabbed his ankles a half-second later, wrinkling her nose at PEI's stinky feet.

PEI yelped in surprise as the two towering prairies made a beeline for the fountain, still holding him between them. His heart sank as he saw it getting closer and closer, the other provinces following behind them, their grinning faces all he saw with a stolen backward glance.

The twins stopped a short ways from the fountain, and PEI groaned. "Not this again..."

They swung him back and forth, slowly, the height of the swing increasing to the count of one, two three...

And then he was flying through the air in a wide, lazy arc, a yelp of surprise trailing with him all the way into the fountain.

PEI hit the water with a resounding splash, breaking it and sinking into the icy pool for a second before struggling to the surface and shaking the water out of his eyes, treading water and rolling his eyes at his cackling siblings. He swam to the rim of the fountain and climbed out as Saskatchewan walked up with a towel and a massive smirk, handing it to his drenched host.

"You looked twice as dumb as I just did, I hope you're aware." PEI muttered at his younger brother from the depths of the towel, handing it over to the farmer who was currently towering over him so he could take off his coat.

Saskatchewan chuckled. "I'll bet I did, what with Onty and Québec doin' the throwing. But tradition's tradition." He patiently waited for PEI to wriggle out of the soaking dress shirt that was clinging uncomfortably to his body and handed him the towel.

"By the way, I made some arrangements with New Brunswick for you to have a change of clothes. Tradition's tradition but sitting in an air-conditioned room while you're soaking wet ain't no picnic, I'll attest to that."

PEI nodded gratefully, gathering up his soaking suit and dutifully stomping barefoot over the lawn to where New Brunswick was waiting. Some of their little traditions were incredibly stupid, in his rather damp opinion.

* * *

_A/N:_

_Sweet baby Jesus I'm so sorry it took so long to get this out. I have some issues with my wrists and I wasn't able to write anything for the last three weeks. So I'm sorry about that. Hopefully the next chapter will be more timely. _

_-The tradition of dunking the host province in their legislature's fountain is purely fictional and is not based off of any real-world political practice, as funny as that would be. _

_Next time: The war over PEI's sofa reaches its epic conclusion! _


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

* * *

_Many hours later..._

PEI sighed, standing on his tiptoes to clip his dress pants to his clothesline. The rest of his outfit, still quite damp from his little dip in the fountain, flapped alongside it, looking for all the world like a child had put their dressup clothes out to dry.

The smell of cooking meat wafted invitingly from his open kitchen window and PEI couldn't help but take a nice deep sniff. The heavenly aroma of flipper pie, one of Newfoundland's specialties, hung heavy on the air, and PEI's mouth started to water- say what you would about the reclusive island province, but five centuries of taking care for himself had whipped the man into quite a good cook, (albeit one whose repertoire was confined to more traditional cuisine.)

PEI trotted inside eagerly to help New Brunswick set the table. Ontario had proposed that they all go out for dinner together, but PEI had vetoed that within seconds. He was hosting and he'd wind up footing a good chunk of the bill to be polite; a small rudeness to nip the idea in the bud was far preferable to having nine other people eat and drink away his life's savings.

Newfoundland was singing as he tidied up the mess he'd made of PEI's kitchen, a deep gravelly voice ringing pleasantly through the house about...Cod liver oil, apparently. PEI shook his head as he set out some napkins and a bottle opener- some of the old man's songs made no sense.

Newfoundland walked into the dining room a few minutes later with a bottle of lager straight from the Islander's cellar in one hand and the apron he'd been wearing in the crook of his elbow, a pleased smile on his face. He strode forward and plopped down in a kitchen chair, taking a sip of his beer and putting it on the table.

"It's done," He said, looking pleased with himself, "An' I tink dis one's one of me better pies, if I may say so meself."

PEI nodded. "Great. Should we have dinner now, then?"

New Brunswick shrugged. "May as well. I'll go get Scottie."

Newfoundland's smile disappeared at the mention of his adopted brother, face darkening into an angry scowl. PEI couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"Aw, suck it up, Newf. You lost fair and square. No sense pouting about it."

The withering glare that was directed at the islander immediately after that little remark caused PEI to instinctively step back. The heavily-accented fisherman took another sip of his beer and looked away, nursing his incredible pride in sullen silence.

And then Nova Scotia strode in like the king of the world, a massive smirk on his face and the silver kilt pin fixed prominently at the front of his Scottish skirt for all to see. It had been two days since that disastrous card game and Nova Scotia couldn't help but rub it in.

He sacked down in a chair and interlaced his fingers, elbows on the table. He sat across from Newfoundland, smirking at him from that safe distance while the fisherman shot him a filthy glare.

PEI was expecting New Brunswick to slap Nova Scotia on her way to her seat, to stop the idiot from goading Newfoundland into losing his temper. But she didn't, she simply walked around him and shimmied into her seat, pulling her chair up to the table and sitting up straight like a proper lady, shooting a withering glare at Nova Scotia by way of a warning.

PEI coughed awkwardly and nodded at Newfoundland to go and get the pie, walking over to the counter to grab the side dish of potatoes he'd prepared earlier. He put it down on the table and slid into his own seat, letting the chef of the main course sit at the head with the platter of seal meat and pastry, plus a pie cutter to dish it out with.

Newfoundland stared at the pie for a moment, brows furrowed deeply in thought. He looked at the pie, then the potatoes, and then that infuriating little smirk on Nova Scotia's face. Face, pie, potatoes, pie, face, potatoes...this dragged on for well over a minute, and just as PEI was about to ask him to get on with it already, the stocky fisherman's face lit up.

He grinned broadly, twirling the pie cutter, and diced the mass of meat and gravy and goodness into four chunks of varying sizes, dishing out massive and equal chunks to PEI, New Brunswick, and himself...leaving Nova Scotia with a sad little slice that sat forlornly in the middle of his vast, empty plate, the pitiful chunk of pastry and seal meat dwarfed by the expanse of white porcelain.

Nova Scotia's little smirk vanished in an instant as he gaped at the pie, looking up to give Newfoundland a piece of his mind-

And getting a good, long look at an identical little smirk being reflected right back at him. Nova Scotia's eyes fell on the potato bowl, nearer to Newfoundland's end of the table, and he lunged for it.

The fisherman snagged it before he could, doling out PEI's potatoes to New Brunswick and PEI in generous helpings, before spooning himself the remainder- minus a tiny one for the man sitting opposite him.

Nova Scotia's mouth hung open in shock as he stared at that one, tiny potato, looking at PEI and New Brunswick for some assistance, which wasn't forthcoming- they were too busy digging into the delicious seal meat to care about the little kerfuffle.

Nova Scotia groaned. He didn't want to raid PEI's fridge later- lord knows the little guy was cash-strapped as it was, and all this was a big expenditure for him- and New Brunswick was about as likely to share her food as she was to cut off her own arm or start talking in Chinese. And eating a small dinner now would mean he'd be too hungry to sleep tonight, kept awake by food dreams and hunger pains, and he'd be in the same boat as the aching fisherman the next morning.

He looked at New Brunswick again for help. She rolled her eyes and swallowed the mouthful she'd been working on, glaring back.

"You're both adults and you can sort out your own damn problems. I'm staying out of this, got it?" she snapped, irritated at the sudden interruption of her meal. She took the opportunity to shoot a warning glare at PEI, her look plainly telling him to keep out of it and let the two of them sort it out themselves.

As New Brunswick turned back to her food, Nova Scotia let out a deep, annoyed sigh, staring down at his plate. Newfoundland was planning something, and if he wanted to get anything to eat...

The redhead looked up, eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

"What do you want, Newfoundland?" He snarled, fully aware he was playing right into the old man's hands.

Newfoundland smiled. "Well, now ain't dat a right interestin' question, me son. I's wantin' only one ting, an' I bet you can guess what dat might be."

Nova Scotia scowled. "Never. I'm not giving you the couch. I won it fair and square, and I'm gonna keep it for the rest of the conference."

To his surprise, the man sitting opposite him kept smiling.

"'Course ya are, and dat's right smart of ya, b'y. But I ain't never said nothing about _givin'_."

Nova Scotia blinked a few times, trying to process this new information.

"Then...what ARE you saying?"

Newfoundland leaned forwards in his seat, keeping his friendly smile. "I's sayin', we all play another game of poker. You bet da couch when you feel like bettin' it, an' I'll bet somethin' equal in value. Da advantadge is yours, me son, an' you could get your hands on somethin' nice too."

Nova Scotia scratched his chin, deep in thought. "I don't buy it. You could say three bottles of beer is equal to the couch and win it that way. Whatever you bet, it's gotta be something that's actually valuable. Otherwise, no deal."

PEI swallowed his helping of seal meat to chime in, "This poker game happens- if it happens-tomorrow. I'm really tired and I don't want to be kept up by the two of you yelling and swearing all night long, got it?"

Newfoundland nodded once, grinding his teeth a little. The meant he'd have to sleep on the blasted mat again. On the other hand, that would give him time to find something of equal value to the couch. Perhaps some words of wisdom, or an embarrassing secret he'd written down in his logbook about somebody? If there wasn't anything true, he could just pull a yarn out of thin air when asked to deliver the goods.

Nova Scotia folded his arms. "And I'm not gonna buy empty promises or horseshit stories. It's either something solid and worth money, or information that's actually worth a damn."

He scratched the back of his head, thinking deeply, before turning to New Brunswick and patiently waiting for her to swallow her current mouthful before continuing,

"If it's a story or something, you run it by Brunsie first. If she says it's above board, then fine, I'll do it. If not, no deal. Got it?" Nova Scotia said with a deep, weary sigh.

Newfoundland nodded, offering his hand.

Nova Scotia accepted, and they shook on it.

As the two sank back into their seats, there was only one more thing Nova Scotia was concerned about.

"Can you pass me some of that friggin' pie? I'm starving."

* * *

_A/N: _

_-Flipper pie is a traditional dish from Newfoundland, and it's made of seal meat. _

_-The potatoes in question were very small PEI potatoes. _

_I'm pretty sure that's it for notes. I'm gonna go on a bit of a hiatus here- maybe a week or something. I'm graduating this semester and I gotta get my shit in order, so fanfic and friends unfortunately has to hit the backburner. See you guys in a week, or maybe less. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter nine**

* * *

_Many hours later..._

Newfoundland groaned.

His back was _killing_ him. He'd been rolling over and over for what felt like an eternity, the throbbing of protest from his vertebrae, hips, neck, and shoulders keeping him from sleep.

He rolled again- the air-filled mat squeaked and squawked with every movement, along with hurting his back something fierce. The sound, so close to his head, was the other reason he hadn't been able to drift off to sleep.

A part of his skeleton would protest in agony, and he'd roll away to give it a break; then the inflatable mat would give under his weight a bit, loudly crackling as it reformed itself around his new position, keeping him awake.

It was maddening.

And to top it all off, the inflatable mat smelled like piss.

Newfoundland didn't want to know why.

He moaned and rolled over again. His face was less than half a foot from some shelving units. The mat had been set up in what was effectively a closet. Complete with brooms and three sacks of potatoes, and also a large steel cabinet that probably had either rifles, PEI's fur coat, or his taxes. There was barely enough room on the floor for the bed, let alone a person to sleep on it, but it was basically the only place where PEI had left to put it.

At least he'd bothered to clean out the closet. It smelled like lemon soap and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere- an apology of sorts from his diminutive host.

So that was something.

Newfoundland sat up finally, fumbling a hand up above his head until it made contact with the pull-chain for the single lightbulb overhead.

He gave it a decisive tug and checked his watch, groaning at the time. It was ass o'clock in the morning, the conference was due to start in less than six hours. And by god, he needed sleep.

Newfoundland looked around the tiny little closet. His suitcase with his formal clothes and whatnot were waiting in the only available spot to put them, all neatly packed up and ready to go- Nova Scotia's doing. Just another one of his subtle little ways of rubbing in the fact that he'd won.

Newfoundland calmed himself down with a few deep breaths of the admittedly nice-smelling closet air as he pictured stoving the half-Scottish bastard's head in with a crowbar.

After the flash of annoyance was gone, he stroked his beard thoughtfully. The suitcase was packed and ready to go- hell, he was fairly certain Scottie had put his toothbrush and whatnot in there, just to be an ass.

A few deep breaths later and Newfoundland had his phone out, opening up his contacts list and scrolling through them, trying to remember who was staying at the hotel again.

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

BC's phone vibrated on the table between the beds. Without taking her eyes off the hockey game on the screen- the Canucks was gonna win this one, they just HAD to- she reached over and scooped up her phone.

"...Weird."

Alberta looked up from her book ("Designing Long-Distance Pipelines", how subtle).

"What?"

BC shrugged. "Nothing. It's just...I got a text from Newfy... Since when does he text anyone, let alone me?"

Alberta tilted her head. "...What the hell? It's past midnight. What does _he_ want?"

BC shrugged. "Just what hotel we're staying at and what room number. He didn't say why. Do I tell him?"

Alberta scowled. "Not our room number, got it? I ain't sharing a bed with you. Or him, for that matter."

BC rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I'll just tell him what room the guys are staying in instead, sound good?"

Alberta grunted by way of a response and turned another page.

* * *

_Half an hour later..._

"I'm _NOT _sleeping with him."

Manitoba's face left not doubt in anyone's mind that his words were final and he wasn't going to be moved on the issue. He folded his arms and leaned against the door to their hotel room, stern face unmoved by his brother's pleas. Ontario groaned and rubbed his forehead. He sure as hell didn't want to sleep with Saskatchewan, and he also didn't want to sleep with Québec the blanket-hogger again. Mostly he just wanted to sleep.

They hadn't gone to sleep yet- any of them- because an argument over the arrangements had broken out immediately after dinner and an awkward silence had been filling the room since then. Ontario had hoped that trying to convince Manitoba to see reason would be enough, but unfortunately, his brother was determined to make things as difficult as possible.

He sighed.

"Could we perhaps ask Alberta and BC to-"

Before Ontario could finish, Manitoba cut him off. "Already asked. Not a chance. They'd have to double up themselves, and well. Apparently BC snores like a chainsaw and Alberta kicks in her sleep. Who knew?"

Ontario groaned. "And they didn't provide us with a cot?"

"Nope."

The tall blonde sighed. The countless coffees were wearing off, and he was starting to approach the point where falling asleep in a ball in his suitcase was looking better than staying here and trying to figure this all out.

He was sorely tempted to just flip protocol the double bird and go rent another room for himself and Manitoba, letting the two unpleasant bedmates be. He opened his mouth to suggest as much when he was interrupted by a tap on his shoulder.

Ontario turned around to see Newfoundland with a pillow under one arm and his suitcase in the other, looking just as exhausted as they were.

"Newfoundland?!" The two central provinces said in unison, staring in shock and horror at the easternmost province.

A door on the other side of the hallway opened up and a short, Japanese woman scowled at them.

"SHH!" she snapped, slamming the door behind her.

The three men stared at the floor awkwardly for a moment after the interruption, silence filling the hotel hallway in a smothering wall of emptiness.

Ontario coughed.

"...Newfoundland? What in god's name are _you _doing here?" He whisper-shouted into the silence, straining to keep his voice low.

Newfoundland scowled. "Me back aches an' I can't sleep on dat fuckin' mat, b'y . Dat's why."

Ontario stared. "But...But why are you _here?!_"

Newfoundland huffed. "I told ya, me son. I can't sleep on dat mat, so I's sleepin' here."

Ontario was about to protest, about to tell him to turn around and go right back to that damn mat, when Manitoba reached up quick as a flash and pressed a hand over Ontario's mouth.

"Of course," He said, voice dripping with well-faked sincerity, "You can double up with Sasky, how's that sound?"

Ontario's angry glare shifted to horribly, horribly confused. Manitoba had just given up his spot in his bed, and for seemingly no reason. As he tried to figure out the snarled, tangled logic, Newfoundland beamed at the elder prairie province.

"Dat's right kind of ya, me son."

Manitoba nodded. "Hey, don't mention it. Can't have the old man sleeping on the floor, eh?"

Newfoundland glared at him and muttered something to the effect of "I'm not that old", grabbing his suitcase by the handle and walking into the room, letting the door close behind him with a small _click._

Ontario stared at Manitoba, ripping the Métis man's hand away from his mouth and shooting a dark glare at him.

"Manny, why the hell did you give him your spot? Where are you planning to sleep?!" Ontario hissed, concern and annoyance mixing together in his words, his tone, and n his face.

Manitoba grinned. "I'm sleeping with you and Québec, of course."

There was a moment of complete and utter silence.

"That...that came out wrong."

* * *

_A/N: _

_-Japanese tourists are very common in PEI, especially in the summer, hence why the lady is Japanese. _

_That's probably it for notes this time around. My life is almost back on track, so here's hoping I can get my shit together and graduate. I had a slab of this chapter lying around and I figured I'd finish it. _

_Next time: We get back to the actual talking-in-your-sleep thing. Finally. _


End file.
